


Opening: The New World

by emolee96



Series: Songs For A New World [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jason Robert Brown, Songfic, Songs for a New World - Freeform, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emolee96/pseuds/emolee96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first part of what will hopefully become my series inspired by Songs For a New World by Jason Robert Brown. This one covers their entire lives, from getting accepted to NYU to, inevitably, their death, because that is where life ends, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opening: The New World

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea months ago, during a particularly boring history class, and it quickly became one of my favorite things to work on, and the longest single piece I've ever written. I kind of forgot about it when I finished, though, and I found it under my bed a few weeks ago and figured, "Hey, why not publish this?" So here it is. I've got ideas for the rest of the songs from SFANW too, which is why this is part 1 of the series, if you guys like it I'll work on writing something for each song, but either way, here's the first part, I hope you enjoy it!

# 

_a new world calls across the ocean..._

“Ep, mail’s here!” Gavroche yelled.

Éponine ran downstairs, snatched the pile of letters out of her brother’s hands and took them back up to her room so she could open them in peace. Today was the day the letters were supposed to come. She flipped through the mail, praying they would bear good news. NYU. Columbia. They were all there, places she was only going to be able to go because of the generosity of Cosette’s father. Cosette had been her best friend since they were twelve, despite how horrible Éponine had been to her when they were younger. She took a deep breath and opened the envelope from Columbia. Wait-listed. It was better than she had expected. She’d known it was a stretch when she applied there. She took a deep breath and opened the envelope from BYU. _Dear Miss Thénardier, Congratulations!_ it read. She almost fainted.

“’Ponine?” Azelma knocked on the door. “Is everything okay?”

Éponine stood up, her legs shaky underneath her, and walked over to open the door for her sister. “I got in,” she said quietly.

“You what?” Azelma shrieked. “Gav, she got in!” she yelled. She turned back to Éponine. “NYU?”

“NYU,” Éponine nodded. A grin slowly stretched across her face, “’Zelma, I got in!” And as suddenly as it had appeared, the smile was gone.

“What is it?” Azelma asked, “Éponine, what’s wrong?”

“This,” Éponine gestured around them. “You, Gav… I can’t leave you two.”

“Don’t be an idiot, of course you can,” Azelma snapped. She was the spitting image of Éponine, with her tiny frame, dark curls, and brown eyes, but she was about ten times as stubborn. “I’m only a year younger than you, and Gav’s twelve, he’ll be old enough to take care of himself by the time we both leave. It’s not like we don’t have parents. They exist; they’re just terrible at what they’re supposed to do.”

“You’re right,” Éponine sighed. “Thank you, ‘Zelma.” she pulled her sister into a hug.

“Now promise me you’ll go,” Azelma said seriously. “Promise!” she said again when Éponine hesitated.

“I promise,” she said.

_a new world calls across the sky..._

Grantaire was silent as he opened the letter. “Well,” Courfeyrac prompted, “What’s it say?”

Grantaire sighed and laid back on his bed, his black curls spread out across the pillow like halo. He stared at the poster on his ceiling, the Pollock print he’d hung up the day they’d moved into this house, the day he’d decided that if he was going to do one thing with his life, it would be getting out of this hellhole they called a town. The same poster he had stubbornly refused to take down, even though his mother had told him he would ruin the paint on the ceiling. (He had come up with the very witty response of every angry 13-year-old, saying “You’re ruining my life” and locking himself in his room for a week.)

“R!” Courf snapped his fingers in front of Grantaire’s face. “You’re zoning out again. What’s it say?”

“I’m in,” Grantaire shrugged, “So we’re out of here.” He stuck his headphones in his ears, and Courfeyrac supposed that was the end of that conversation.

_a new world waiting in the shadows..._

Enjolras opened the envelope, his hands shaking nervously, even though he knew what it would say, they all did, they’d known this was the plan since he could walk. The house was empty, as usual – his mother was at some charity luncheon (ironically held for starving children) and his father was at work. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, the red of his shirt even brighter against the dark marble of the countertops and the spotless stainless steel appliances. _A veritable likeness of Apollo,_ he imagined Grantaire would say, but Grantaire wasn’t here now, of course he wasn’t here, he’d moved when they were in seventh grade, they’d barely spoken since, though Grantaire had tried to email Enjolras many times. Enjolras picked up the phone and dialed. His father’s secretary picked up the phone on the other end.

“Yes, hello, Elaine,” he said, his voice immediately taking on the businesslike tone he always heard his father use, the one Enjolras himself used when speaking to all adults who weren’t immediate family. “I my father – a meeting, I see. Yes, just tell him the letter came. Good news, if he needs confirmation, though I can’t imagine why he would. Columbia Pre-Law, yes. Thank you, Elaine. No, there’s no need for him to call me, just wanted to pass along the good news. Thank you, Elaine. Goodbye.”  He hung up the phone and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. There was no need to call his mother, he thought, he could just tell her when she got home. He would see everyone else – Combeferre, mainly – at school in the morning. Nobody else needed to know. He poured himself a glass of green tea and took a chocolate bar out of the cabinet (all organic and fair trade, of course. He wouldn’t eat anything else.). This was his only celebration. He couldn’t afford to waste time. He had work to do. School stops for no one.

_time to fly, time to fly…_

Jehan curled up in his chair. He was in, full ride. Not even his parents could complain about that. He wanted to sing, to compose a sonnet, to dance, do something. Instead, he settled for braiding flowers through his hair. Better to keep it to himself, for now. He would talk to Courfeyrac later and they could finally make their plans.

_it’s about one moment,_

_the moment before it all becomes clear…_

“Hello?” Courfeyrac picked up his phone.

“I got in,” said a soft voice on the other end of the line.

“Congratulations!” Courfeyrac exclaimed. “So did I. R did too. We’re all going to get out, finally.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Jehan said quietly. Something was wrong, Courfeyrac could tell. He could always tell.

“What’s up?” he asked, “And don’t try to lie, little one. I know you too well for that.”

Jehan laughed. “Yet we’ve never actually met. And I’m fine. Nothing’s happened. You don’t have to worry about me. Well, not any more than you do now. I’m just – what if it’s too good to be true, Courf? It’s all working out so perfectly right now. Something has to go wrong.”

“Don’t say that!” Courfeyrac snapped. He winced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. But it’s not going to be ruined, Jehan, I promise you that. I won’t let it happen. This is going to work out for us, ok?”

“You promise?”

“Of course I do. Next year, it’ll be just us, the two of us and R, and whoever else is lucky enough to become friends with us as well, I suppose, at NYU, in the greatest city on earth. And we can be us, just us, and nobody will tell us otherwise, and we will never have to go back to where we came from.”

Still curled up in the chair in his bedroom, Jehan smiled. Courfeyrac was his rock, had been for three years since they first met on the internet. Courfeyrac kept him sane when everyone else, even his parents, tried to change him, to make him into someone else. If Jehan could count the number of times he’d heard someone mutter “freak” when he walked down the hallway at school, each time his parents had told him to change his clothes because they looked like something a girl would wear, he would probably go insane. So he went home and he read his Keats and his Eliot and his Whitman and he talked to Courfeyrac and they made their plans for the future and Courfeyrac kept him from doing something they would both regret. But they had always been that – plans, fantasies. Never in his wildest dreams had Jehan imagined them coming true. And now that they were going to happen, he was just afraid something was going to ruin it for them. But if Courfeyrac said it wasn’t going to happen, it wasn’t going to happen.

“Hey, you still there?” Courfeyrac asked eventually.

“I always am,” Jehan said.

“Good. I gotta go, R and I have a thing at school, but I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Bye, little one.”

“Bye, Courf.”

_it’s about one second_

_and just when you’re on the verge of success,_

_the sky starts to change, and the wind starts to blow…_

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” Gavroche said. He hugged Éponine tightly.

“I’m going to miss you too, kiddo,” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “But I’m still coming home for Christmas, and Thanksgiving. And you and ‘Zelma can visit me if you want. It’s not like you’re never going to see me again.”

“I just don’t want you to forget about us,” he told her.

“Why would you think that? I’m not going to forget about you, never could. And I’m not leaving ‘til August, Gav. It’s only February.”

“Oh! Can I go play with my Legos, then?”

“Yeah. Go play with your Legos.”

_and you’re suddenly a stranger_

_there’s no explaining where you stand…_

“Well, look out the window, Courf. Welcome to the rest of your life. Happy?” Grantaire asked his best friend. Grantaire’s parents (who he loves dearly, really, even though he will never admit it because he has a reputation as a cynic, and he aims to maintain it for as long as possible after all) had driven them up to school, Grantaire’s mom driving their minivan and his father following behind them with a U-Haul full of things they couldn’t fit in the back seat.

“Of course I am, my friend,” Courfeyrac answered, never looking up from his cell phone. “wondering about this Pontmercy guy, though. Seemed a bit awkward in the email he sent me.”

“Odd that you didn’t get a room with Jehan. I thought you requested that,” Grantaire pulled out his own phone and began a text to Enjolras, which he quickly deleted, because he’d never responded to Grantaire’s emails, so why would a text be any different?

“Yeah, we decided it would be better that way. I mean, what if we hate each other when we actually meet? We thought it was better if we waited a year.” Courfeyrac said this for his own benefit, as he knew full well that Grantaire wasn’t paying attention to a word he was saying.

“Ah,” Grantaire said, clearly distracted.

“We’re here!” Grantaire’s mother informed them. She put the car in park and jumped out. “You two getting out or not?”

“Just a moment, Mother. Let us savor these last few moments as – HOLY SHIT!” And Grantaire, who usually did his best to stay away from social interaction altogether unless it was absolutely necessary, was running as fast as he could into the crowd, in pursuit of a red t-shirt and blonde curls too familiar to belong to anyone but “Enjolras!” he yelled.

_and you didn’t know_

_that you sometimes have to go_

_‘round an unexpected bend_

_and the road will end_

_in a new world…_

Cosette looked around her, blue eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation. “We’re here, ‘Ponine!” she said excitedly, “We’re actually here!”

Éponine just nodded, unable to speak, still not totally believing that this was actually happening. Stuff like this did not happen – not to her, at least. She wasn’t this lucky.

“Well?” Cosette prompted, “What do you think?”

Éponine sighed. “It’s beautiful, Cosette. It’s perfect, I mean. Cute boy alert, 11 o’clock,” she added, because she had her priorities straight.

Cosette turned her head to look. They boy was cute, in a bewildered, lost-puppy sort of way. His hair was a mess, his face was covered in freckles, and when he noticed Cosette staring at him, he turned the brightest shade of red Cosette had every see. She decided that she was going to go talk to him, but no sooner had she made the decision than he disappeared into the crowd.

“Crap, I think that was Marius,” Éponine muttered.

“Who?”

“Oh,” she hadn’t realized Cosette had heard her. “Marius Pontmercy. Used to live on my street when I was kid, moved before I became friends with you, and he went to a different school than us anyway, you probably never met him.”

“No, I didn’t,” Cosette said dreamily, “But I want to. Can you introduce us?”

“Yeah,” Éponine tried to hide the pain in her voice, “Of course I can.”

_a new world calls for me to follow_

_a new world calls waits for my reply_

_a new world holds me to a promise_

_standing by, standing by…_

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, “Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” he panted. Turns out that attempting to run through an extremely dense crowd of people while trying to get someone’s attention was a lot more difficult than Grantaire had originally thought.

“God, I barely recognized you, you’ve changed so much!” Enjolras exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

“Lungs of a smoker and fitness level of an octogenarian, Apollo,” Grantaire laughed. “Not that much has changed.”

“You have, though,” Enjolras said reasonably. “How are you?”

“You would know the answer if you’d bothered to read any of the emails I sent you. It’s been almost six years, Enjolras. I thought you hated me. Actually, forget I said that. I sound like a bitter ex-girlfriend or something. You had no reason to respond, of course you didn’t. Why would you?”

Enjolras sighed. “No. You have every right to be upset with me. I should have written back to you, and I did want to, believe me, but –”

“Not necessary,” Grantaire interrupted, “I thought you were going to Columbia?” Columbia had been Enjolras’ Plan for as long as they’d known each other, and Enjolras, Grantaire knew; hardly every strayed from The Plan.

Enjolras shrugged. “Plans changed. People change. What are you here for?”

“Art. What else?” Grantaire pushed his hair back. he needed a haircut. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

“R!” Courfeyrac walked up to them. “Dude, we have to go.”

“And you are?” Enjolras was visibly irritated by the interruption.

“Courfeyrac. Who are you?”

“Enjolras.”

“Ah, so you’re Apollo. Yes, I’ve heard many drunken rants about you. Too many to count, actually. There was that one last week that was particularly good…”

“okay, Courf, time to go,” Grantaire grabbed his friend’s arm and dragged him away.

_it’s about one moment_

_that moment you think you know where you stand…_

Enjolras had gotten the expected lecture when he had informed his parents of the change in his Plan. The “What about your future, how can you throw away this opportunity? I can’t believe you would do this.” speech. He told them, as he’d decided he would, that Columbia didn’t feel like the right fit anymore, that yes, he knew he’d only applied to NYU as a safety school, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt like it was the best place for him. he didn’t tell them that he wanted to change things, that he felt like he could reach more people at NYU, plan more protests there. His parents would never stand for that. While they were happy to donate to charities, and go to dinners supporting some big shot’s latest philanthropic endeavor, especially when it got them on the front page of the society section of the newspaper, real social change wasn’t high up on their list of things they wanted to happen.

Enjolras certainly didn’t change his mind when he found out Grantaire was going to NYU, of course he didn’t, that would have been a silly reason. It was just an added bonus, a happy coincidence, that was all, nothing more. But that last part was a lie, one he told even himself, because it was better that way, he was convince it was. He needed to focus on schoolwork, on getting an internship, not a relationship. That’s what he told himself. Then he saw Grantaire again, and everything he thought he knew came crashing down around him, and for the first time in his life, Enjolras didn’t know what to do.

_and in that one moment,_

_the thing that you’re sure of slips from your hand…_

Grantaire felt like an absolute idiot. He’d been stupid, he shouldn’t have talked to Enjolras, shouldn’t have acted like he did, but he had, and now was questioning his life choices. He’d acted like some kind of crazy person back there, accusing Enjolras of hating him, asking why he hadn’t responded to his emails. They’d known each other when they were thirteen. That was no reason for Grantaire to think they could pick up from there and be friends like they had been. (And that was all, he told himself. He just wanted to be friends, nothing more.)

And what was up with Enjolras being there in the first place? Columbia had been The Plan, and Enjolras always followed The Plan. NYU, of all places, definitely wasn’t a part of it. So what had made him change his mind? his parents must not have been happy with him. Grantaire had told Enjolras he was going to NYU, sure. he told Enjolras everything in his emails. That couldn’t have had anything to do with Enjolras’ decision, though. Grantaire couldn’t see any other reason, but then he didn’t know much about Enjolras anymore, he hadn’t for years. He wished he’d been a factor in the decision, obviously, but he knew we wasn’t, of course he wasn’t, Enjolras didn’t care that he was there, it was just a coincidence, only a coincidence. That was what he told himself.

_and you’ve got one second_

_to try to be clear, to try to stand tall…_

By November, Marius and Cosette were dating. By Christmas, they were in loved. Éponine wanted to be upset, wanted to hate Cosette, because Marius had been hers, damn it, and Cosette had taken him from her. But she couldn’t make herself do it. The two of them were just so happy together, sickeningly so at times, and Marius looked at Cosette like he couldn’t believe she was actually real. Éponine couldn’t bring herself to ruin that, she just couldn’t. And if introducing the two of them mean Marius’ entire group of (extremely attractive) friends welcomed Éponine into their ranks, well then she couldn’t really complain, could she?

She loved them all, Courfeyrac especially. The two of them became inseparable once they’d met. They did absolutely everything together. She encouraged him to stick with Jehan when he had his doubts about the relationship working out, He made her talk to Combeferre (“Because he’s cute, with those hipster glasses of his, and you like him, I know you do, don’t lie to me.”) And they both found a great deal of joy in goading Grantaire about Enjolras.

Being with them gave Éponine a kind of confidence she’d never known she’d been missing. She’d taken care of her brother and sister her whole life, yes, going to parent-teacher conferences, signing tests and permission slips in perfect copies of their parents’ handwriting, but she’d always done so quietly, drawing no more attention to herself than absolutely necessary. But ever since she’d arrived at NYU, since she’d met Les Amis, as they called themselves, she’d come out of her shell and actually become comfortable with herself.

They made her feel like she mattered, like people would actually listen to what she had to say, like they actually cared about what happened to her. (At one point, when she told them about her life before, Bahorel and Grantaire had threatened to break the neck of anyone who hurt her every again. Grantaire was half-joking. Bahorel was not.) For the first time in her life, Éponine felt stable, like she knew what her life was and it wasn’t going to disappear, and she wouldn’t have traded that for anything.

_but nothing’s the same_

_and the wind starts to blow_

March. Jehan and Courfeyrac were palling to get an apartment together. Nobody would have been surprised if Marius and Cosette announced their engagement. Combeferre and Éponine were getting there, slowly, on their own terms, with Courfeyrac offering his advice from the sidelines. (Éponine, however, always ignored him, and so far, doing the exact opposite of whatever he suggested was working out fairly well for her.) Enjolras and Grantaire were hopeless, but Grantaire hoped anyway. (“Enjolras is just like some kind of socially constipated llama,” Courfeyrac explained one day, thinking that this would somehow explain things. However, nobody could vouch for his sobriety at that point, so his advice of “You just have to kiss him, R, he’ll come ‘round” was largely ignored.) Everyone was happy, or at least as happy as they could be. Then it happened.

They were sitting at the Musain, just like they did every day after class, Enjolras trying to convince them that they could change the world while Grantaire drew him. (Enjolras didn’t know about these sketches, couldn’t know, would never know, Grantaire was firm in this.) while Combeferre studied (although whether he was taking notes on his textbook or what Enjolras was saying nobody was sure) while Courfeyrac regaled them all with tales of his latest adventure, Jehan curled up next to him, head resting on his shoulder. It was a beautiful day, the first real day of spring. Just as Éponine pointed it out to everyone, her phone rang.

“Hey, Gav, what’s up?” she asked.

“’Ponine,” he sounded like he was on the verge of tears, but holding himself together because he was thirteen now, he was growing up, and Éponine wasn’t there to see it, and it hurt.

“What is it, bud? Talk to me,” she got up and walked out of the face. Combeferre watched her, concern etched on his face.

Gavroche took a deep breath. “’Ponine, we have no house. Mom and Dad didn’t pay or something and now we have nowhere to go and I’m scared, what are we going to do?”

“Okay, calm down,” Éponine said, “I have friends here, good friends, they’re nice people, kiddo, they’ll help us out and you’ll be fine, okay? I’m coming home right now, get your stuff packed. Tell ‘Zelma to do the same. We’re going to be okay, Gav, I promise.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you in a few hours, ok?”

“Yeah. Bye, ‘Ponine,” Gavroche hung up the phone.

Éponine walked back into the Musain. “Well, I need a new place to stay. And a car to borrow. Gav and ‘Zelma are coming to stay and I have to pick them up. I’ll explain later.” To nobody’s surprise, Combeferre was the first to volunteer to help.

_and you’re suddenly a stranger_

_in some completely different land_

the night after their last final, Éponine and Combeferre were sitting on the roof of his building, looking at the stars, talking of things unimportant yet infinitely significant.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, you know,” Combeferre said quietly, “Home for the summer, I mean.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Éponine sighed. “Everyone is. I would too, except you know, no house, and Gav’s happier than he’s been in years. I can’t take him back to that.”

Combeferre turned to look at her. “You should come with us,” he said finally. “My parents have a huge house; we’ve got more than enough room for the three of you. Courf and Jehan and R are already staying. Enjolras is right next door, so he’ll be there too. It’ll be fun.” He silently prayed to whatever higher power exists that she would agree.

“You’re joking, right?” Éponine asked incredulously. “I mean, you can’t be serious.”

“Why can’t I be serious?” Combeferre seemed hurt.

“Because you just can’t be,” Éponine stood up and walked to the edge of the building. She looked out over the streets of the city that, in the past nine months, had become her home. Combeferre walked up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Talk to me, ‘Ponine,” he whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“Nobody’s ever been this nice to me before,” she explained, “I mean, Cosette’s been wonderful, she’s the reason I’m here, but I don’t deserve this. Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I care about you,” Combeferre shrugged, like it was the simplest answer in the world. It was. “I want you to be happy, and I want Gav and ‘Zelma to be happy because it makes you happy, because all three of you have been through hell and you do deserve this, all of it. So I’m serious. Come home with me this summer. All of you.”

“you really mean it?” Éponine’s eyes were glistening with tears.

“Of course I do,” Combeferre hugged her tightly. “I never say anything I don’t mean.”

“Thank you,” Éponine said. She checked her phone. “Shoot. I have to go It’s way past Gab’s bedtime, and ‘Zelma’s at work. Thank you, ‘Ferre. Really. It means everything to me – to all of us.”

He hugged her again before she left, and watched her walk back into the building before sitting down again to watch city go by. She’d looked back over her shoulder one more time and smiled at him before she left, her fact silhouetted in the dim glow of the streetlights. Combeferre’s whispered “I love you” had been lost over the distance and the roar of the traffic below, but he knew he’d said it. And Combeferre, as we know, was not one to say something he didn’t mean.

_and you thought you knew_

_but you didn’t have a clue_

_that the surface sometimes cracks_

_to reveal the tracks_

_to a new world…_

“Hey, hey ‘Ferre, guess what?” Courfeyrac called. He shut the door of their apartment and yelled for his roommate again. (He and Jehan and Combeferre and Enjolras had all gotten an apartment together. It was marginally less expensive that way.) “’Ferre?” he said again. He pushed open the door of Combeferre’s bedroom and stuck his head inside, “Combeferre, I –” He stopped talking abruptly when he saw the scene inside. Éponine and Combeferre were curled up on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs, Éponine’s head resting on Combeferre’s chest as be absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair. They were watching Doctor Who, and quite frankly looked absolutely adorable. He snapped a picture with his phone before closing the door and sending it to Jehan with the caption _FINALLY!_ When he opened the message, Jehan almost fainted.

_you have a house in the hills,_

_you have a job on the coast_

_you find a lover you’re sure you’ll believe in…_

The night before graduation. They were all sitting on the roof of Combeferre’s building, reminiscing about the last four years and, for the first time in their lives, dreading tomorrow instead of dreaming of it, because tomorrow brought the future, and the future meant that, sooner rather than later, they would all be separated. Jehan had his face buried in Courfeyrac’s shoulder, his small body shaking as he cried. Cosette was curled up next to Marius, and Éponine was leaning against Combeferre.

“You guys, this is it,” she said quietly, “Tomorrow’s the end. And then we leave. We might come back, but it won’t be just us again. Not like it is now. This building will stay here, this school will stay here, and it won’t change. But we will.”

And it was true. In two days, they were all going their separate ways. Éponine was leaving to be part of the national tour of “Catch Me If You Can” (Gavroche was staying with Cosette’s father, and Azelma was only a year away from graduating herself), Enjolras was staying in the city to work at the UN, Combeferre was off to medical school, Courfeyrac and Jehan were moving to Boston so Jehan could continue going to school and Courfeyrac could find some sort of employment. Cosette was moving back home to be with her father (and help him with Gavroche. The kid was a handful.) and Marius was going with her to be a paralegal at her father’s law firm. And Grantaire was staying in the city, near Enjolras, because they all knew he would follow Enjolras wherever he went.

Enjolras and Grantaire were standing on the edge of the building, in the same place Combeferre and Éponine had stood what seemed like both a lifetime and a few seconds ago, looking out over the city.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to not having this much light around me,” Enjolras said, “Can’t sleep without it now.”

“’Light – the visible reminder of invisible light’” Grantaire quoted. “T.S. Eliot, I think. Jehan mentioned it once, freshman year, when I first met him.”

“We’re not going to be together anymore, all of us,” Enjolras said, like he was realizing it for the first time. He sounded pained. “Everyone’s leaving.”

“Astute observation, Apollo,” Grantaire said, more than a little bit sarcastically. “Hold up, are you… crying?”

“No,” Enjolras lied as he wiped a single tear from his eye. “Of course not.”

Grantaire, in a move that was totally unlike him (and one he would never admit to later, when asked) reached over and squeezed Enjolras’ hand. “Hey, it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again. We’ll still be friends.” He tried to pull his hand away, but Enjolras held it there.

“You know, you’re not as bad as you seem, R.”

“I could say the same about you, Apollo.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

_you’ve got a pool in the back,_

_you get to the part of your life_

_you hold the ring in your hand_

It had been three years since they’d all been together, just like old times. Éponine was in rehearsals for a workshop of a new musical she was absolutely in love with, Combeferre had just graduated from medical school (and was still totally in love with Éponine, as she was with him), Grantaire had gotten a job drawing political cartoons for different websites (Which he was surprisingly good at, given his usual hatred for all things politics), and was living with Enjolras in DC where they made headlines almost daily. Enjolras was the youngest member of the House of Representatives, outspoken as always, and had a boyfriend. He was also drop dead gorgeous. This made him a media goldmine. Courfeyrac and Jehan were still living in Boston. Jehan was actually making money with his poetry and Courfeyrac, somehow, (Even he didn’t quite grasp all the details) had become anchor of the nightly news. And Marius and Cosette were, well, Marius and Cosette. Marius was working his way through law school and Cosette was teaching second grade.

So when Marius told all of them his plan, they’d agreed to meet at the Musain like they always had. They fell back into their old rhythm, Grantaire ordering drinks for everybody (except Éponine, who refused with a cryptic smile that made Combeferre’s face turn bright red) while Enjolras regaled them with a speech about some cause or another.

“Does anyone else have anything to say?” Enjolras asked when he was finished.

Marius stood up, visibly shaking. His face was bright red and he looked like he was about to cry. “Cosette,” he said quietly.

“Sounds like he’s going to puke,” Grantaire commented, earning him a shush from the rest of the group.

“Cosette,” he said again, “I’ve known you for seven years, I’ve loved your for longer, which I realize isn’t actually possible now that I say it out loud, but it feels like it’s true, and I would like to love you for the rest of our lives, if you’ll permit it. Will you marry me?”

Cosette laughed. “Of course I will!” she kissed him. “As long as you’ve already asked Papa.”

“It was the most frightening experience of my life,” Marius said gravely. He slipped the ring on her finger and everyone laughed.

“Drinks all around!” Grantaire shouted, “Well, almost. Celebrations are in order!”

Enjolras laughed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Grantaire hadn’t been drinking nearly as much since they’d gotten together.

“Wait,” Cosette said after a moment, “Grantaire, what do you, almost everyone?”

Grantaire shrugged, “None for Éponine,” he said simply. Combeferre’s face turned bright red again. Éponine squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

“So,” Cosette looked at Éponine, her blue eyes wide and questioning. Éponine nodded, and Cosette squealed and ran over to hug her best friend.

When they’d all been twenty-two and preparing to leave each other and go out into the world for the first time, they had been afraid of changing. But now, only three years later, they realized they didn’t have to be afraid. No matter how much they changed, when it was just the eight of them, they would always be the same.

_but then the earthquake hits_

_and the bank closes in_

_and you realize you didn’t know anything_

“It’s cancer,” Éponine said quietly. She was past tears now; she’d had her fill of crying weeks ago. She was scared, certainly. Terrified, even. But tears weren’t going to help anyone, and it wouldn’t do Combeferre any good to see her like that.

“How am I going to tell Cat? What do I say? She’s only seven years old,” Éponine said brokenly.

“You tell her the truth,” Enjolras shrugged, “That her father is very sick, but there’s a good chance he’ll get better. She’ll understand.”

“She’s a child, Apollo, you can’t just tell her that,” Grantaire admonished. As soon as Éponine told them what was happening, they’d all flown in, promising to stay and help for as long as she needed them there.

“Hush, the pair of you. You’re not helping,” Jehan snapped at them.

“None of us are helping if all we do is bicker,” Cosette said reasonably. “But I do agree with Enjolras in this case, ‘Ponine. You have to tell her the truth. Children are surprisingly perceptive. She’ll know if you’re hiding it from her.”

And even though Éponine thought she had exhausted all her tears, she began to cry again.

“Hey, hey, shh, you’re okay, it’s going to be fine,” Courfeyrac hugged her tightly. “‘Ferre’s a fighter, he’ll pull through, always has.”

And Courfeyrac was right. Combeferre did pull through, and he was pronounced cancer-free only eight months later, and all of them, Cat included, were stronger for it. They were ok. they always were. Because as long as they all had each other, things would turn out fine.

_and you’re suddenly a stranger,_

_all of a sudden_

_your life is different than you planned._

And before they knew it, they were sending their own children to college.

“This is weird,” Éponine said to Combeferre as they sat down for their first dinner without Catelyn in eighteen years.

Cosette echoed the same sentiment as she and Marius drove away after dropping their son off at the same college where they had met what seemed like all those years ago.

Enjolras bit his lip, staring at the road ahead of them as the windshield wipers cut across his vision.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Grantaire said quietly as they drove away from the same dorm he and Jehan had spent their freshman year in. Enjolras squeezed his hand wordlessly, at a loss for words since he had seen Grantaire on that same campus so many years before.

And, true to form, Jehan cried his eyes out as he and Courfeyrac drove back to Boston. Courfeyrac let him cry, and listened when he wanted to talk, because he knew he would bounce back eventually.

Their houses felt empty and quiet, devoid of the noise and activity their children had provided. But they all slept soundly in the knowledge that their children were embarking on the same journey they once had, in a place that was always changing but exactly the same as they’d left it, and with any luck, their new world would be just as wonderful as their parents’ had been.

_and you’ll have to stay_

_‘til you somehow find a way_

_to be sure of what will be_

_that you might be free_

“Of all things I never thought would come, this was at the top of the list,” Éponine mused as she put her earring in. “Cat’s getting married. She’s really leaving us this time.”

“True, but she’s marrying Max. She won’t be that far away,” Combeferre said reasonably. HE straightened his tie in the mirror next to her. “I mean, we do practically everything with Enjolras and Grantaire anyway. And they’re still going to live around here.”

“I know, I know,” Éponine sighed. She checked the time. “We should probably get going.

“Yep,” Combeferre nodded.

“Éponine walked over and knocked on Catelyn’s door. “Sweetheart, are you ready?” she asked.

“Once second!” Catelyn called. She opened the bedroom door. “How do I look?”

“Oh, Cat, you look beautiful!” Éponine exclaimed. Catelyn’s dark hair cascaded in loose curls around her shoulders, touching the sleeves of her dress. (“Vintage, 1924,” Catelyn told her mother when they found it.)

“Shall we?” Combeferre offered his arm.

“We shall,” Catelyn laughed. This had been their thing for as long as she could remember, and she took his arm as they walked down the stairs, ready to start this next chapter.

_a new world crashes down like thunder_

_a new world charging through the air_

_a new world just beyond the mountain_

_waiting there, waiting there…_

“Do you permit it?” Grantaire whispered to Enjolras. his Apollo nodded, and Grantaire gripped his hand tightly as Enjolras took his last breaths.

As Enjolras breathed in for the last time, his life flashed before his eyes, like they always promised It would in the books. But it wasn’t the life he’d had; it was the life he’d always wished he could have led, if he could bring everyone he loved with him. IT was 1832 in Paris, during the June Rebellion. Enjolras was the last one left, or so he thought, and was about to die by firing squad when his Grantaire, his cynic, appeared from the shadows. He stepped into the light with a tentatively whispered question, and Enjolras pressed his hand with a smile. They died as they had lived, Grantaire just seconds behind Enjolras, both of them still smiling.

When a nurse rushed in, she found Grantaire slumped by Enjolras’ side, still holding his hand tightly, a small smile on his face, which was echoed on Enjolras’ own. Doctors would alter determine he had died of a massive heart attack, but their children forever maintained that it had been a broken heart.

_a new world shattering the silence_

_there’s a new world i’m afraid to see_

_a new world louder every moment_

_come to me, come to me…_


End file.
